Friday, 16 March 2012

SWINGING ON A BRANCH

Mornings, so silent, waking up with the light. Noons listening how the ice starts to melt again for once again. Breaking under steps, melting away. Streams around pebbles. A squirrel waits next to a mailbox. It must be the time when they roll their soft tails around new baby squirrels. Nests in fir tree branches swinging in the drama of the spring. (A song about a squirrel, take 1 & 2.)

Afternoons listening to new languages through radios. Reading new finds from the library shelves. Holding that black teacup once again, not always sure which of the green teas would be perfect for this moment. Choosing one called Limão. Taste of a sunny place, where the sun turns skin warm and brown. There is a bit of sleepiness in the air, the lemon taste makes the day fresh again.

Packing orders and a commissioned private painting of two siblings to their mother. Thank you to everyone for being here with me!

Evening for a concert of a favorite trumpet player, a few friends, a nice meal. A good welcome for the weekend.